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From the relative peace of hyperspace, the Falcon exploded into pure hell. All around, hundreds of fighter craft were shooting at everybody else, and everybody seemed to want a piece of the Falcon. This was far bigger then Herb had thought; there were hundreds of bloody aces in this melee, and if he kept going like this he’d be killed…
He manoeuvred to the edge of the battlefield, and from there saw approximately thirty craft hiding beyond the perimeter…
“Chickens,” Herb growled.
He gunned the Falcon to full power, and raced toward the group at close to three fifths the speed of light; the cowards didn’t even have a chance to twitch.
Within a millisecond, rows upon rows of pulse cannon fire took three ‘aces’ and scattered the rest of them, and now Herb engaged in his favourite form of combat: One on One Duels.
The Falcon’s superior engines made all the difference. As Herb had guessed, the majority of the fighters he encountered were defensive-based, and he wasted no time in reducing them to scrap; the entire process took only ten minutes.
Even in those ten minutes, the battle hadn’t even begun to calm down. It was obviously a little smaller, but the sheer intensity inside was unlike anything he’d seen since the Great Fall of TERROR; there seemed to be more weapon fire then actual weapons.
Herb took a moment to compose himself, gunned his engines, and raced at full speed right into the thick of it.